History has shown that supergroups almost always look good on paper. Too often that’s where they look best — the wildly inconsistent results range from breathtaking — Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young — to head-scratchingly awful — too many to name. Today’s version, the markedly less pretentious Monsters of Folk — whose tongues were placed firmly in cheek when making that moniker — lie somewhere in between: Fantastic in theory yet still leaving something to be desired on tape.

Monsters of Folk unites four pillars of modern popular folk on this self-titled debut album, namely singer-songwriters Conor Oberst (Bright Eyes) and M. Ward (also of She & Him fame), My Morning Jacket frontman Jim James (or Yim Yames, as he has been credited of late) and Saddle Creek Records’ producer/multi-instrumentalist Mike Mogis (also of Bright Eyes). Their idea to cut an album originated in 2004 when Ward, Oberst and James toured together, collaborating on their respective catalogues in a night billed as “An Evening with Bright Eyes, Jim James and M. Ward.”

Even with such prolific and individualized songwriters as Oberst, James and Ward, the album is remarkably cohesive. Like the folk supergroups of yore, each artist has a handful of songs that are clearly his or her own, and employs the other members to help orchestrate the tracks. This collaborative element allows for a thicker dose of vocal and instrumental layering and some added stylistic variety. Still, the four find plenty of ways to blend together, and often do so in stunning fashion.

James-led opener “Dear God (Sincerely M.O.F.)” is a soulful prayer with each singer taking a thoughtful stab at divine dilemmas underneath James’s soaring falsettos and Mogis’s R&B-flavored drum and string samples.

“Baby Boomer” is a little more fun, exemplifying the ideal Monsters collaboration with Ward and Oberst trading vocal lines over a two-step shuffle and James’s high harmonies. With all guns blazing, they sound, well, pretty darn good. It’s a nice break on an album of otherwise lackluster songwriting.

Oberst enlists his typical faux-Dylan prose throughout the album, particularly in “Man Named Truth” and “Temazcal,” using the same lyrical formulas and shaky delivery that have typically come to characterize the Omaha troubadour. It’s here that playing it safe brings out the flaws in Monsters: There is a notable absence of inspiration from all three songwriters, Oberst included.

Jim James somewhat makes up for the mediocre songwriting by continuing to push the limits of his increasingly playful persona (whom we can only assume to be ‘Yim Yames’) that likely first emerged in 2008 on MMJ's Evil Urges. James is unquestionably the most daring artist on the record, acting as both the flamboyant backup man and the pensive balladeer. Though the songs themselves may not be that great, he does his best (with help from Mogis’s deft keyboards and mechanical guitars) to dress them up all pretty.

“The Sandman, the Brakeman and Me” is another fine moment, and is perhaps M. Ward’s best writing since 2006’s Post-War. Here he employs his dusty Americana style to full effect for an acoustic ballad that sounds like a lullaby sung from a Depression-era boxcar. With lonesome atmospherics courtesy of Mogis, the song packs one of the few consistently compelling melodies on the album. It posesses a backcountry familiarity that only M. Ward can conjure.

“His Master’s Voice” rounds out the album. It's another biblical hymn led by James, with harmonies played by Ward and Oberst aiding the chorus.